


#18: Mate

by RocioWrites



Series: 20 words [18]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 14:31:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11922885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocioWrites/pseuds/RocioWrites
Summary: And aren’t you the light? My love...





	#18: Mate

 

_And aren’t you the light? My love..._

*

Your life is dictated by the steps you take, like a complex choreography. You are happy and you show it through your dancing on the ice, you are sad and you show it through your dancing on the ice.

You are tired but you don’t stop, you don’t know how.

*

At four, you already love dancing and surprising people all around. You’re not 100% graceful but your heart is in the right place, it seems. You smile and dance and rejoice in everyone’s happy laughter.

(Viktor outright full-body flushes at remembering his performances in front of family and neighbors and everyone who stopped for even a second to look at him.)

 

At five, you decide you want to be a figure skater.

( _Was that a bit precocious?_ , Viktors asks Yuuri once. Yuuri emphatically shakes his head _no_.)

 

At six and four months – _That’s not how you say your age darling_ , your mother reprimands lightly –, your postures are better and along with the laughs, you receive _oooh_ s and _aaahw_ s of approval and amazement.

(Viktor loves his memories from ages four to eight.)

 

At ten, your mother tells you you’re going to be a total heartbreaker. You’re not sure you want to break anything, much less people’s hearts – those are important, right? Why would you want to break something so beautiful?

(Viktor gets it now. However, he still thinks he doesn’t want to be a heartbreaker. He’s happy with being Yuuri’s husband, thank you.)

 

At eleven, you get your first kiss. Anya is twelve and she is an excellent skater herself, she says it’s only a hobby and it sort of makes you mad but you smiles at her anyway because your mother has taught you to be respectful and charming. She inches closer and presses her lips to yours – it’s short and you’re not sure if you like it. Anya giggles nonetheless and leaves, claiming this is her last day on the ice, she will be thirteen soon and needs to move on from childish pastimes.

(Years and years later, Viktor thinks Anya didn’t even know what that meant.)

 

At fourteen, you’re already _someone_. You’re an athlete, pride of the Nikiforov family.

(Viktor has always been _someone_ – be it because he’s talented or charming or simply himself, he has always been _Viktor Nikoforov_. Although, he sometimes has a hard time believing it.)

 

At fifteen, your father leaves. Your mother cries every night and she blames herself. You hide it all under smiles and harsh training routines and also blame yourself.

(Viktor confesses to Yuuri that he understood what being a heartbreaker meant the day his father left. And the man didn’t even deserve holding those hearts in the first place.)

 

At sixteen, you have no time to think about romantic love or other people’s hearts. Your destiny is playing right before your eyes, you’re special, shining brighter than the sun.

(Viktor has told Yuuri countless of time how Yuuri has brought _love_ and _life_ to his somber days.)

 

At seventeen, you get Makkachin.

(Viktor pets Makkachin and whispers into her fur how much company she has kept him. _It’s hard to be alone, you know?_ She barks and wags her tail gleefully.)

 

At eighteen, you are living the dream.

(Viktor _thinks_ he was happy in his youth. It’s hard to tell though, he doesn’t have specific memories that make this point obviously clear to show for.)

 

At twenty, you’re at the top of the world. You are a legend, a hero, a God. People bask in your glow, in your bright smile, in your choreographies. You are loved by thousands but you love your ice, your freedom. That’s what you try to convince yourself of.

(Viktor has met so many wonderful people through skating. And yet— sometimes, empty is all that it was life for him.)

 

At twenty-two, you remember all those who have marveled at your talent and think nothing of it.

(Viktor _never_ stopped loving his ability to amaze people, it just that for a few years, it was pretty hard to actually remind himself he loves his talent.)

 

At twenty-five, you’re ready to give up. You don’t know how, yet. It feels impossible when year after year you’ve been doing the same, as if your whole body and mind were forever on stage, displayed for anyone and everyone, people always watching.

(Viktor was becoming a shadow of himself during his twenties. He never vents this out loud, but everyone that matters to him, know.)

 

At twenty-six, you meet the love of your life, sparkling and drunk and heavenly fun and charming and _everything_. You believe— no. You know you will do anything for this man.

(Viktor, feverishly, says he’s never wanted anything for himself as much as Yuuri and at the same time he wants to share him with the world because Yuuri is _perfect_.)

 

At twenty-seven, you fall in love. You find _love_ and _life_.

(Getting them to where they stand now wasn’t easy, that much Viktor can admit. However, he wouldn’t trade this for anything.)

*

Viktor’s life is dictated by his steps. The best one he took was to go after his soulmate. A step sequence full of smiles, heart-eyes, tears, arguments, hugs, _love_. Yes, he wouldn’t trade his life for anything, not when it all led to Yuuri.


End file.
